Diary Of A Foster Child
by sevenohfive
Summary: Im scared as hell to want you, but here I am, wanting you anyways. And fear means I have something to lose, right? And I don't want to lose you.' I told him, letting my gaurd down. And in the moment when he kissed me, for once in my life, I felt wanted'
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This has been in my head for like a month and I need to get it out. By the way this is totally an AU (Alternate Universe) story.**

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September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 1:05 AM.

I've always been the one to be careless and tough. Ever since December 25, 1999, I've worn a mask. I still do. I hide myself behind a witty, sarcastic, confident, strong mask. Most people would think that it's not healthy, but hey, it's been ten years and I ain't dead yet so it must not be that unhealthy. Oh, I'm Miley, by the way. Miley Stewart. So, anyway...moving on.

The reason I bought this diary was not because it had a cute matching pen (which broke after I tried to pull the top off when it was the kind that twisted) or because it was lime green, my favorite color. No, I bought it so I'd have something to write my emotions down on, to have someone (even if that someone is an inanimate object) to explain my problems to. And believe me; I have a _lot_ of problems.

For one, I'm in foster care. Yep, that's right. I'm in foster care. In ten years I've lived in 43 different families. Thats 43 different towns, with 43 different school systems, not to mention 43 different "moms" and 43 different "dads" and a heck of a lot of annoying "sisters" and "brothers". I didn't even care to make anymore friends, the fifth move I made convinced me that I would never be in one place for more than a years.

Sure, it's overwhelming, but it's my life. Switching from house to house. The funny thing is, out of all of those houses, only one has ever felt like my home.

You see, when you're in foster care, it's because either your parents didn't want you, you have no parents or guardians to look after you, or you are too old for adoption. I apply to all three. My dad left my my mom when I was one...he wasn't ready to take care of me at the age of 16. But my mom held in there...and then there was an accident. But I don't like to think about it.

My first home since the accident was with the Stephenson's. I was 6 and became attached to them. I loved them as if they were my biological parents. After one year I found myself being moved into a new family.

That was the second day of my life that I lost someone I loved. I had to let go one too many times, so I just figured that I should stop holding on.

I was then put into foster care. It never phased me until I turned 9 that I would be tossed around like a hot potato up to the day I turned 18. Last month I was taken in by a young couple, leaving the building owned by Miss Hegryt, I like to call her by her first name, Luci. Luci Hegryt has been my social worker ever since the day of the accident. She was the one who brought me to interviews for entering a new family, and she was the one who picked me up when I got kicked out of a family.

Yeah, I've been kicked out of families. It's not the best feeling in the world, but when you hear that you're "not what they're looking for" constantly, you get used to it.

So right now I'm in my most current bedroom in, yet a different town, Bayview, California with a population of 2,359. Lets just say that I have probably lived in almost every small town or village in California. Not my cup of tea.

It's not exactly fun when you've seen every type of Paris Hilton wannabe more than 43 times all in the state of California.

School starts tomorrow (actually today since it's like 1:30 AM crap)...joy. I can't wait to finally feel like I'm fitting in, only to be moved again. Hmm...maybe the new kid thats coming to live with us tomorrow will have gone through more hell than me so I can actually feel bad for someone else, rather then feel sorry for myself.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 1:45 AM.

But then no matter what you get to a point where you stop feeling sorry for yourself. You realize no one's going to save you, so you have to save yourself. You turn your life around, not knowing where you're going, just knowing that you'll do anything, anything to be happy again.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 1:50 AM.

Who am I kidding? I've felt sorry for myself ever since I was six and a half.

September 3, 2009. Cafeteria, 11:03 PM.

This school bites. It's like a world where the only thing people care about is sports, looks, popularity, and who hooked up with who.

Surprisingly the lunch is pretty good. Did I just admit that? Cheese fries. Not half bad.

I'm currently sitting with Lilly and Oliver (my foster siblings, apparently the home I'm in now, like collects kids?) at a table, surrounded by more crowded tables. The three of us get along pretty well, probably because we are all 16. But I'm smart enough not to get too attached and start calling them my best friends, before I know it I'll be packing up and on my way to a new family.

"So Miley how do you like Bayview High so far?" I looked up to see Oliver and Lilly looking at me expecting an answer. They have lived with Jen and Tom since they were each like 5. So to them it doesn't even seem as if they don't live with their biological parents, as if this is their hometown.

"Well Oliver, I've been to 43 schools before this one, you're gonna have to give me at least another day to tell you that I hate it." I replied and him and Lilly just faked a little laugh.

"She's funny isn't she, guys?" Lilly said to two other girls. Sam and Erica, I believe their names are.

They simply nodded and shared a look. I've seen that look before.

Told you I have problems. I can't help that I have a dry humor people just take it too seriously, so I thought I'd speak up. I rolled my eyes and smiled, "I was kidding..." I told them and chuckled once.

"I like it here. It's...nice." The four of them laughed, more convincingly this time. There we go.

It's now 11:10, time for History class.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 3:15 PM.

I barely have homework. So I finished it all. I just had to cover a few books and get a few things signed by my foster parents. And the new kid showed up at the house today. I thought it was tomorrow...but it was today. And my god is he gorge...well I would erase that but it's in pen. Crap. I'm gonna regret that later. Anyways, his name is Nick.

I walked through the door with Lilly and Oliver they were arguing over something stupid, as usual. But I was used to it after knowing them a month, and they always made up after about an hour.

"I'm telling you Lilly, striped pudding is better then the regular kind." Oliver argued and threw his backpack on the couch, meanwhile Lilly was shaking her head in disagreement.

"Striped pudding? I mean what is that anyways?" She said and followed him up the stairs to their bedrooms.

"It's the kind with dark and milk chocolate..." Then I blocked their voices out of my head and walked straight to my own room. My room is downstairs along with Jen and Tom's room and an empty room. Mine was all the way at the end of the hallway, I picked it for a reason. It's the room that's deepest into the house, not to mention the smallest and it's got its own bathroom. There really is no need for me to have a big room. It's not like I have a lot of belongings. The only things I needed were clothes, guitar, and this diary.

Anyways, as I was walking to my room I noticed that the empty room's door was open and the light was on. I furrowed my eyebrows and backed up and peeked into the room. There was boy with shortish, curly, brown hair. He had his back to me, but he seemed to be shuffling around in a drawer.

I pursed my lips and dropped my bag on the ground, and walked into the room. He turned quickly to see where the noise came from.

"You know, it's polite to knock." He said and smiled at me. Man is he a cutie. I didn't bother to smile back, I just kind of kept walking in the room until I became about a foot away from him. He put his hand out, as if for me to take it and shake it. I ignored it and studied him.

His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes were brown and penetrating right through me.

When he saw that I wasn't going to shake his hand, he drew it back and rubbed the back of his neck.

"So...you must be Miley?" He questioned hesitantly and placed both of his hands in his pockets.

I know it seemed as if I was being rude but this is what I'm like when I meet new people. I analyze them first, see if they are worth getting close to.

"How did you know that..." I said and looked around his room cautiously.

"Your necklace says Miley." Wow, did I feel like an idiot. How did I not remember that I was wearing it. My mom gave me the necklace when I turned 5, I've worn it everyday since. "Oh...right."

"I'm Nick, by the way." I nodded and glanced over to his bed, something caught my eye. Next to his bed was a guitar. A very nice, acoustic guitar. Well, we had one thing in common.

"So Nick, what's your story?" I asked him and walked over to his bed and picked up his guitar. Usually people would be mad that I was going through their stuff, but he didn't seem to care.

"What do you mean?" Ugh. This is gonna be hard if I have to translate everything to him.

"I mean," I started and strummed a chord on the guitar, I'm not gonna lie, that was a nice guitar. "Everyone in foster care has some type of story, for instance...me. I am a messed up teenage girl who nobody seems to want for more than three months." I told him and shrugged when I saw the look of sympathy flash through his eyes.

"Uhm," He looked down for a brief minute and back up at me. "Well, my parents died a few years ago and, here I am." I nodded and stood up, putting his guitar back into place. I would have said I was sorry, but to be honest. I hate when people tell me they are sorry. Like I need anyone else feeling sorry for me. I figured he felt the same.

"Well, nice to meet you, but I don't think we'll know each other for long." I told him honestly and walked to the doorway, about to pick up my bag.

"Whys that?" He questioned, stopping me in my tracks. I didn't turn to look at him, I just stared ahead of me at the hallway wall of pictures of Jen and Tom with Lilly and Oliver through the years.

I bit my bottom lip and and shook my head, letting out a short chuckle. "Like I said before, nobody ever seems to want me for more than three months." Then I picked up my bag and walked into my room, kicking the door closed behind me.

I covered my books and got Jen to sign those papers, Tom doesn't get home from work until around 7 every night. And that leads me to where I am now, writing in my diary.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 7:45 PM.

Is it weird to suddenly be attracted to someone after not caring for anyone for 9 years?

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 7:52 PM.

Well that was a silly question. I am NOT attracted to anyone.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 7:57 PM.

Seriously. I'm not. I'm just gonna go take a shower and recollect myself.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 8:01 PM.

Even if he is incredibly cute and okay I should really stop now.

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**A/N: Wow that sucked, just ugh review? Lol please! I beg of you. I'm on my knees begging you people to review. Should I continue? I know the beginning sucked, but it will get better. I promise. x]**

**xoxo**

**-kelsie**


	2. Chapter 2

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 8:56 PM.

Okay, it's one thing to be embarrassed when you walk out of your bathroom in only a towel to find a really cute...but arrogant boy in your room, it's another to see him standing next to your bed, reading your diary. And it all gets worse when a sudden unknown desire of like and dislike are thrown at you when he is around.

I had just gotten out of the shower and saw that I didn't put my pajamas in the bathroom, at least I remembered my towel, or that would have really been embarrassing.

I wrapped the towel around my body and combed out my hair so that it wouldn't dry in knots. I hate how when you put your hair into a towel right away, and then later on, you try and comb it out, but it gets in knots because you didn't bother to comb it then wrap it in a towel, so I always comb it out first. But I didn't even have an extra towel with me, because I forgot my pajamas so I just combed it and let it dry from the air. So it would most likely frizz later, but what did I care.

I opened the door, humming to one of my original songs and was scared out of my wits to see Nick standing by my bedside table, reading MY DIARY!

My eyes went wide and I'm pretty sure my mouth literally dropped to the floor. The fact that he was just in my room, invading my privacy was enough to let the anger boil within me. I shut my mouth and gritted my teeth. I felt my eyes narrow on him and my nostrils flared a bit. My fists were clenched and and I took a slow deep breath before speaking up.

"What the hell are you doing?" I questioned through clenched teeth. He looked up casually and the diary was still placed in his hands.

"Oh hey, Miley." He said calmly and proceeded to read. Seriously? I'm standing right there and he just keeps on reading!

"Put. That. Down." I glared at him and marched over and snatched the diary back. "Sorry?" He said and I caught him looking me up and down. Crap. I forgot I was in just a towel.

"What do you think you're doing...reading that..?!" I practically shouted and he just continued to stare at me. His eyes were penetrating right through mine.

"Well?" I pushed him to answer me. Still no answer. I watched him and raised my eyebrows waiting for what he had to say. He subconsciously licked his lips (oh my lanta) and looked me up and down. I suddenly became very self-conscious and stepped back a few steps from him.

He chuckled slightly before saying, "You uh...you might wanna get dressed or this could get very awkward." He licked his lips again (dammit) and he was half smiling at me.

I smiled sweetly and rolled my eyes sarcastically at him, "Right because it's not awkward already for me walking in my room in just a towel to see you reading my personal and harbored feelings." I said and walked to my dresser pulling out a tank top, cami, shorts and a bra and underwear. I sensed him watching my every move and tried not to make eye contact with him. What good did that do me? I ended up tripping over my own leg and dropped none other than my black and white polka dotted bra on the floor.

I quickly picked it up and my head snapped over to face him, not only was he indeed staring right at me but he was trying to stifle a laugh. He raised both eyebrows at me and shook his head, smiling. I bit my bottom lip and just turned back around, I could feel the heat rise to my now red face. So I walked slowly to my bathroom. And JUST to make things more awkward he just HAD to say something.

"Red's a good look for you." He smirked and I bit my tongue because there were a million comebacks I had in my mind but I refrained and just kept walking.

About fifteen minutes later I walked out of the bathroom. I was wearing a dark purple cami, layered over a white tank top and black Soffee shorts. I decided to throw some mousse and gel in my hair, scrunch it, then put it in a messy bun so that when I woke up in the morning I could undo it and it'd be nice and wavy.

I looked over at my bed and sure enough, Nick was sitting on it, strumming away at my guitar. I assume he heard me open the bathroom door because he looked up at me and stopped playing.

"A Daisy Rock guitar, eh?" He said and smiled at me.

"Hey, some of the best female guitarists out there own Daisy Rock guitars." I challenged and he didn't comeback with anything. He just nodded and put it back on the stand. There was a silence and strangely, it wasn't awkward. Speaking of awkward.

"So what made you think you could just barge in my room earlier?" I asked and he shrugged. Then he started wandering around my room, touching little things on the dresser. After a moment of silence he looked up from what he was doing.

"Your door was open." He said and looked at me skeptically.

"Well that was a silly answer." I said and sat down on my bed.

"A silly question deserves a silly answer, don't you think?"

"It was not a silly question. Now, I want an answer."

"You kind of barged in my room earlier...I think that gives me a right to return the favor."

"You made me feel incredibly awkward." I told him with a blank expression and he let out a big laugh.

"Ha! I made...you...feel incredibly...awkward?!" He said in between laughs. I stared at him in awe. Why was he laughing, no one ever laughs at me, heck it wasn't even funny!

"It's not funny!" I said and watched as he continued to laugh. "Nick," I said sternly, "It's so not a laughing matter! You walked in here and started reading my diary when I walk in wearing nothing but a towel. And don't act like you didn't see me drop my bra on my back to the bathroom, 'cause I know you did. I don't see the humor in that." He stopped laughing and looked at me, trying not to laugh anymore.

"I wasn't laughing at that...although it was pretty funny seeing your face turn all embarrassed and red when you dropped your-" He started but I cut him off immediately, not wanting to talk about this any longer.

"Okay! Okay...then what was so funny?"

"You said it was really awkward for you! How do you think I felt? I'm in here reading what you wrote, you calling me gorgeous and cute, then you walk through the door wearing just a towel. If it was awkward for anyone, it was me." He said and I just froze. I totally forgot about me almost calling him gorgeous and calling him a cutie. It's not like I can deny it. He read it. It's in here. It's in here in ink. I would have crossed it out but I hate cross outs. It shows that you weren't paying attention, giving a sense you could care less. I wouldn't cross anything out. I'd come straight out and admit what I was thinking at the time.

"So? I think you're cute." I began, "I'm not afraid to say it to your face. Because unlike you, I don't just lick my lips and stare at people, even if they are wearing just a towel." I finished and crossed my arms. I study people's actions well. He doesn't know that. Nobody does. But I bet he didn't see that one coming. I didn't even see that one coming. Well I should have...this is me we're talking about.

"Ouch." He said and touched his hand to his heart for some type of dramatic effect I guess. "That hurt Smiley, that really hurt." I would have rolled my eyes at him if he had called me Miley, but he didn't. And everyone would think "Oh wow, he didn't call her Miley, big whoop, don't take it so seriously." But that one word made all the difference.

"What'd you call me?" I asked with a blank expression on my face. Of course I knew what he called me, I'm not deaf. But nobody has called me that since I was seven. It came as a shock.

"Smiley...you know 'cause you're name is Miley and it rhymes with Smi-" He began but I rudely cut him off...again. I wish I hadn't. I would never admit it, but I loved hearing someone call me that again. It could be a serial killer calling me that and I would still love it...I missed it that much.

"Okay! Stop...please." I said and shut my eyes, I don't know why I do that. It's weird but when I shut my eyes it seems to block everything out and I'm wherever I want to be, whenever I want to be there.

I think he sensed some pain in my voice because he shut up and it got very silent.

I opened my eyes after a moment and looked over at him. At the same time he looked over at me. His gaze bored into mine and it seemed like we were having a staring contest, but with less intense stares.

Neither of us blinked and I didn't think we would ever stop this little unofficial contest. But he finally spoke.

"Can I ask why?" He said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah." I answered, but I didn't answer his question. A short silence passed when he said something again.

"Why...?"

"I said you could ask, I never said I'd answer." I replied smartly and he scoffed.

"Well, why won't you answer?" He didn't let it go.

"Because I don't have to." I said, a little irritation filling my voice.

"No, no. It's not that you don't have to, it's that you don't _want_ to. Two totally different things." He picked at me and I nearly snapped.

"Whatever." I said and got off my bed and started closing my windows and locking them before I went to bed.

"Are you gonna tell me why I can't call you that?" He questioned and I sighed and turned to face him.

"Are you gonna drop it and leave so I can get to bed?" I answered his question with a question and started to pick at my nail polish.

"What's wrong with me calling you 'Smiley'?"

"Nothing...I just...don't call me that." I mumbled and my voice got softer near the end of that lame sentence.

"Why do you do that?" Yeah, another question...jeez.

"Well you're all full of questions now aren't you?"

"Ugh. Stop that." He demanded in a solid tone. It kind of took me back a bit. His attitude quickly changed. It gave me whiplash.

"Stop what?" I asked in just as much of a harsh tone.

"Hiding your every emotion with wit and sarcasm and changing the subject. It's pissing me off."

"Yeah...'cause I'm so sarcastic..." That slipped. Out of me trying to prove him wrong I totally failed, but totally succeeded at proving him right. (About the wit and sarcasm, not the hiding emotions behind it)

"What the hell, Miley!" He raised his voice a tad, not so much though.

"What the hell, Nick!" I mocked. And crap. I let that one slip too. Why did he do this to me? Why did he make me say things without thinking? I'm never like that...ever!

"You're doing it again." He said, annoyed. When I look back at that now I can't help but laugh at how annoyed he got.

"Well if you don't like it then leave."

"You know, I came in here trying to be a nice person. I thought you could use a nice person...Miley. You seemed troubled when you came across my room today. I was trying to be a friend." He told me in a more calm tone. But I couldn't hear that. I could never get attached to him...ever.

"What's the point! I told you already, I actually told you twice, no one takes me in for more than three months! And don't call me that!" I argued and once again we were back at staring each other down.

The silence wasn't easy.

Like before, he was the one to break that uneasy silence. "I'm sorry for trying to care. God forbid, Miley...someone was trying to break through to you." And then he was walking out of my room. "Shut the door on your way out." I told him with an annoyed tone and he did so.

That was my entertaining night of fun with the new foster kid. There was something about him that I could fall in love with because unlike other people he didn't give me pity. He pushed me the way I push people. I like that. And it scares me. It scares me for reasons that not even I can explain. And that scares me even more.

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A/N: I'm sorry it took a while to get out. But I lost my inspiration for the story. Then tonight I picked it up after the first paragraph and wrote 6 pages! =]

Okay, so about this chapter... as you can see there is definitely a connection between Nick and Miley. As much as they will both deny it, it's there. And if you thought that was a heated argument...you will be surprised by the next ones to come. =] mwahaha.

Anyways....review! Questions ,comments, concerns. I will read them all and reply to every question. So review! It'll make me happy..

And chapter 3 won't be out until I get 10 more reviews.

So share this with your friends and your friends' friends and your friends' friends' friends. =]

-kelsie.


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